


A Firm Hand

by zoostitcher89



Category: Star Trek
Genre: Discipline, Light BDSM, M/M, Multi, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-05
Updated: 2013-03-05
Packaged: 2017-12-04 09:51:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/709404
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zoostitcher89/pseuds/zoostitcher89
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bones takes good care of Jim, even when Jim might wish for a less careful guardian and lover. Then Spock happens.</p><p>The gratuitous spanking fic you didn't know you wanted. No explicit sex, but male/male relationships are depicted inside.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Bender

**Author's Note:**

> Hi guys! Wow, this fic has been sitting in a folder on my desktop for a while now, so I brushed it off and will be posting it in two parts. Sorry if it's a little rough, I do my own Beta work. Enjoy!

The first time Bones spanks him is eight months into his academy career. Jim had gone through the euphoric early stages of academy life, trying to shove the repeat offender part of genius-level repeat offender in a box under a storm of bright cheerfulness and a spate ridiculous over-compensating. Really, it’s amazing he lasts six months before he cracks and ends up face down in a gutter. Bones hauls him up, puts Jim’s arm over his shoulder, and drags him back to his dorm.

Then he cleans him up, heals the worst of his injuries from the bar fight, and puts him to bed. In the morning, he pulls him over his knees and paddles him till he’s yelling, and then keeps going till Jim’s gotten the point. After, he strong arms Jim up to lay him on his chest while Bones leans back on a couple of pillows. Bones strokes his back for a while, while Jim wonders where his usual bluster and distancing mechanisms failed him, letting Bones under his skin like this. 

A long while later, Bones’ voices rumbles up through his chest and into Jim’s ear, “This self-destructive streak stops right here, Jim. I get that you’re afraid you’ll fuck up and blow your academy career, but this blow up wouldn’t have happened if you weren’t pushing yourself so damn hard. I’m not gonna let you wreck it for yourself because of some psychological bullshit where you mess things up for yourself out of misplaced guilt. So either you stop that right damn now, or you can keep landing yourself over my knee until you get it through your skull that stupid, self-harming stunts are not an acceptable coping method.”

And for a reason Jim can’t seem to figure out, he lets Bones look out for him. Eventually the impulse to throw himself headfirst into trouble lessens, and the times he ends up with a red backside courtesy of Bones become fewer and farther between. This leads to their relationship shifting a bit, and the first time Jim finds himself in Bones’ bed to do more than sleep off a drunken night, he finds himself surprised.

Bones is a bit amused by that, smiling as he works Jim over with caring and careful hands, “I don’t know why you’re surprised, darlin’. Seems like the natural progression of things to me.” And he’s right, but it hadn’t occurred to him because, well, it was Bones, and in Jim’s head there had been a firm line between the categories in his head labeled “Bones” and the one labeled “Potential Fuck Buddies.” But it’s so good, and Jim can’t stop himself. It scares him and comforts him in equal measure. He bolts from the intimacy a few times, because he should really have “fear of commitment” tattooed on his forehead, but Bones is always right there with welcoming arms and a firm hand when he bolts into danger. 

After all that, he shouldn’t have been surprised when they shifted yet again into something more meaningful, but he was. 

“Well, sure, sugar. You ain’t never had anybody that watches out for you, cares for you, and makes love to you.” As is becoming the usual when it comes to them, Bones is right, even if he still tips Jim over his knee when he does something stupid or reckless. 

Then there was the Kobyashi Maru, and the hearing, and Vulcan, and Nero, and Spock, and becoming the Captain of the Enterprise, and Jim finds himself sliding back into old habits. In the long months on Earth waiting for the Enterprise to be repaired, the survivor’s guilt and strain of acting like Starfleet’s golden boy in public have worn on him. Jim at least has the good sense to find a bar so seedy and out of the way that no reporters would find him. The downside of this is that that the crowd the bar caters to is rougher than his usual, and when he picks the inevitable fight, it comes down on him harder than he can handle. When Bones shows up, the ribs that are newly healed from the Narada incident are cracked in three places, as is his orbital socket, and he is mildly concussed, to top off the rest of his bruises and cuts. Bones’ mouth is tight when he bundles Jim home, and in the morning that usually finds Jim howling and kicking, Jim instead finds himself on enforced bed rest. Any attempts to change this are met with a glower so filled with promise that Jim shrinks back into the bed automatically. On day two of his enforced rest, Jim takes it into his head to make a break for it and lick his wounds in private. This has the side benefit of allowing Bones to calm down a bit. 

That impression lasts right up to the point where he gets caught red-handed the second he steps out of the bedroom and finds Bones sitting on the brown suede couch in the living room. Bones looks up from the paperwork he’s been doing, and his eyes darken dramatically. Before Jim can make an excuse, Bones is on him.  
“Shut those lyin’ lips. You were about to try for the door,” he says with finality, and Jim is promptly bent over at the waist, Bones’ strong left arm around his middle, taking care with his sore ribs. A second later his pants and boxers are at his knees, and he’s yelping as Bones begins swatting and swatting hard. It doesn’t last long, maybe a couple dozen swats, but Jim definitely feels it when Bones frog marches him back to bed and shoves him back down on the bed. His jacket and shoes are confiscated and bundled up to an unknown location. Jim pouts for the rest of the afternoon. 

On the third day, Bones pronounces him healed. This would be great, except that now Bones has turned the chair from the desk out to face the room, a sure sign that his spanking is imminent. By this point, Jim has stopped fighting Bones about being spanked, even grudgingly admitting that he probably deserved most of them (under the influence of a lot of alcohol, of course. It’s how Bones and he conduct all their deep conversations). McCoy slouches on the bench, spreads his legs casually, and crooks a finger at Jim. When he stands before Bones, looking up from underneath his drooping bangs, Bones pulls him into a hug.

“Now, darlin’, don’t look at me like that. You know you deserve it, and you know I ain’t gonna kill you,” he says gruffly, with a hint of amusement. And then Jim is pulled so he’s ass up, looking at the boring beige carpet from his spot over Bones’ knee and McCoy is pulling his sweat pants and boxers down around his knees. He squirms, hating this part. Bones always makes him wait, backside bared. He wants him to think about why he’s there in the first place. And just when he thinks he can’t stand it anymore, Bones’ hand is cracking down on his ass, and he wishes Bones would have made him wait a bit longer. 

This part of his spanking always seems to take forever. Hell, the entire thing takes far longer than he would like, but this part is the worst, even if the other parts hurt more. While Bones steadily heats his ass up, round after round of even, predictable swats falling on his butt, Jim can still feel all the other stuff. The flip of his stomach before Bones starts what he can tell is going to be an especially hard volley. The press of Bones’ calloused hand on the small of his back, holding him in place as he squirms. The flush in his cheeks, embarrassed at his inverted position. Bones breathing, intimate and right there, watching his ass get hotter and hotter. It’s awful, terrible, and a little bit good, too, that Bones cares enough to haul him over like this. All of it balls up in his stomach and twists together, making him try to worm away more than the ever-present spanks did. Then Bones starts in on him in earnest and Jim doesn’t have to think about any of that anymore, because he’s too busy worrying about the fact that his ass seems to be catching fire, hot and stinging. 

Only a few dozen swats later, Bones stops. Jim cranes around to look at him. Surely they weren’t done? Bones had never stopped this soon, and Jim had never been in this much trouble before. And then he sees Bones reaching behind him and turning back with his fucking hairbrush and Jim finds himself struggling away in panic. Oh, sure, when Bones wanted to really emphasize a point, he’d given Jim a few with more than his hand, but they were just starting! Surely Bones didn’t mean for him to take his whole spanking with that thing! But Bones was just raising an eyebrow at him, and Jim froze, abashed, and then collapsed over his lap. He groaned, hiding his face in his hands when Bones grabbed him tighter around the middle and muscles flexed when he raised his arm high. 

Jim couldn’t bear to look, and just waited, muscles all flexed tight. But Bones paused, and Jim knew what he wanted. On the few occasions where he’d used the hairbrush, Bones had demanded he relax his muscles. He’d explained that tensing just made it worse, and that he wasn’t going to bruise Jim that badly. But Jim held himself tense, delaying the inevitable. 

“I can wait, darlin’. You’ll get tired soon enough and you’re only making it worse for yourself by being stubborn,” Bones intoned. After another minute, then two, and when it became apparent that Jim had no intentions of giving up anytime soon, Bones rained down half a dozen swats on the tops of his thighs, where he couldn’t really clench up. It also stung like hellfire on that sensitive skin. Then Bones was shuffling him further across his knees, pressing a hand firmly to his back to shove him so far forwards that Jim had to put his hands and elbows out on the floor to catch himself. In that moment of unbalance, Bones pulled one of his legs out from under Jim and trapped his legs between his own. Now Jim was jack-knifed over Bone’s knee, sit spots pointed nearly towards the ceiling, stretched taught but unable to clench. It was then that Bones started to lay down swats, lightning fast, on those tender, taunt sit spots. And there he stayed, back and forth between the two sides, turning them hot red. And Jim hollered, tried to kick, tried to squirm, but to no avail. When he threw a hand back desperately, Bones just put it in an arm lock at the small of his back, bobbled Jim a bit to get him back where he wanted him, and kept on smacking. 

Jim wasn’t crying yet, but his nose was running and his voice was shaking as he tried to plead off. By now, Bones was sending the brush cracking down all over his bottom, though he frequently revisited those hot sit spots. And soon, the rest of his bottom was just as hot, and Jim was getting desperate. Bones had never pushed him like this before. Never heated his ass till he thought he might cry and shatter all over the floor. 

And then there was, mercifully, a pause, “Jim, I need you to calm down a minute for me,” Bones said, and since Jim was ready to do just anything Bones said, if only he would be done, if only he’d put that hairbrush down and never pick it up again, he tried. He took several deep, shaky breaths, his throat feeling raw from shouting and holding back tears. Bones was petting his back, gentling him, and gradually Jim could focus on more than the roaring in his ears or the flame burning his backside. He squirmed as the fire just got hotter and hotter, even though Bones had paused. Bones released his legs, pulling him back into the more comfortable position over both knees, and let his arm out of the lock, only pinning it to the small of his back, which Jim didn’t think signaled the end of his spanking, a miserable thought. 

“That’s good, Jim. Now, I want to make this good and clear: there will be no more benders in seedy bars just to get into fights you can’t handle. And God help you if you ever get yourself beat up this bad again just out of some impulse to punish yourself for shit that’s not your fault. I’m the only one around here that gets to punish you, especially since you haven’t got a sense of proportion or self-preservation. Now, we’re gonna finish this up, and then you’re going to take a nap. After that, you’re going to stay here for a couple of days and let me take care of you. And if you give me trouble, or I think you’re still kicking yourself around for this, you’ll find yourself facing the carpet again before you can blink.”  
And with that, Bones was laying down a sheet of fire down the backs of his thighs, all the way down to his knees, then back up the tender inner thighs. Jim shrieked when this bit of skin was paddled. And then Bones made that round again, and then once more. A few more swats to the broadest part of his ass were almost a relief. Then Bones paused again, and wrapped his arm around Jim’s waist, turning Jim’s backside to an angle and preventing Jim from reaching back. Jim’s heart beat faster at the thought of what Bones might do that he’d need to restrain Jim like that. 

The brush cracked down on the peak of his left buttock. And then again. And again. In fact, Bones seemed determined that that spot get all his focus. Jim kicked, jerked, squealed, yelled, and squirmed, but nothing stopped Bones from smacking that same spot over and over and over. He paused, then switched sides. Jim was relieved until he realized that the same tactic was being employed on his right cheek this time. And nothing stopped Bones. Jim squirmed and cursed and promised to behave, and nothing stopped him. Finally, when the two spots were equally inflamed, Bones paused again, looking at Jim’s screwed up face. Nodding decisively, he turned back and started alternating sit-spots without a single pause. Jim screeched like a scalded cat, twisted, and broke down bawling. 

Immediately, Bones stopped, the hairbrush dropping to the floor. Jim shook with sobs, and Bones rubbed his back soothingly. After a couple minutes, Bones scooped him up and walked over to the bed, drawing Jim up to his chest in their usual post-spanking embrace. Bones soothed him, but didn’t try to stop his tears. Jim did, however, and became a little panicked when he realized he couldn’t stop crying.

“Hush now, darlin’. You just keep on cryin’ and don’t worry about it. And if you keep trying to stop cryin’ before you’re done, I’ll just have to turn you to back over and swat you a bit more.”

It was the most comprehensively spanked Jim had ever been. Oh, that hairbrush probably hadn’t even really bruised him outside of his sit-spots, but he hurt, and felt vulnerable, and he couldn’t stop crying. Bones just held him there for a long time before turning out the light and pulling a blanket over them for a nap.


	2. Spock

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I decided, thanks to a really nice review from flinchflower to go ahead and post the rest of this fic. Also, I switched the point of view in the middle of the chapter from third person to first person. I'm not sure if I like it or not, so it may be something I go back and change. 
> 
> Enjoy!

Bones laughed at him when Jim confessed his incredible crush on his First Officer. That knowing smile had taunted him when he discovered Bones had known all along. Spock and Uhura had ended before the mission had even begun. They ended up as really good friends, and it suited them far better. And when Bones had seen where the wind was blowing between Jim and Spock, he’d had a long sit-down with the Vulcan concerning Jim. When Jim got on board, the foundation was already laid. Spock came to their bed, and they were happier for it. 

Jim had a small panic attack when it occurred to him that when Bones next took him over his knee it would be obvious to their observant Vulcan. Jim pleaded with McCoy not to mention this aspect of their relationship to Spock.

“Jim, you know I try to help you when I can, but what makes you think you can hide this from Spock? You better not be suggesting I stop spanking you,” Bones paused with a glower, and Jim shook his head quickly, “Even if he doesn’t wander in while you’re getting tanned, he’ll definantly be able to tell you’ve had your butt paddled. If you don’t want me to mention it to him, alright, but I won’t help you hide it. And so help me, Jim, if you do anything too ridiculous I might just invite the hobgoblin in to give you a few swats himself.”

“Spock wouldn’t do that!”

“Oh yes Spock would, so I suggest you behave yourself.”

And Jim did. For the first two months of their relationship with Spock, Jim manages not to get shot at, mauled, seduced, or imprisoned by aliens, especially not when he could have prevented it. But all good all good things come to an end, and so did this. Jim wondered just how he got himself into these things as Spock cut him down from where he’d been hung by his ankles. He really hadn’t meant to offend the local priesthood, but the mission brief had gotten shoved out of the way and to the back of his mind when Spock and Bones had come into his room last night, and even when Spock tried to double check that he had read the pertinent files. Jim let his libido take over and lied. And now Spock looked sincerely miffed in an almost feline-being-forced-to-step-in-a-puddle way. Jim rubbed his ankles to restore circulation. Spock seemed to nearly sigh at the pitiful sight of his lover, and relented enough to help.

They beamed back aboard the enterprise, and when Jim went to go lick his wounds in private and dread Bones’ inevitable response to the whole debacle, he instead found his arm firmly gripped in a Vulcan hand. Trying to minimize the humiliation of being frog-marched through the corridors by his First Officer, Jim tried to reasonably offer to follow him and explain that continued force was unnecessary. He received only a slow, dark look that made him shut up real fast. 

Jim shortly found himself being shoved into his CMO’s office. He stumbled a bit, and heard Spock engage the privacy lock even as Bones looked up from his paperwork. He looked back and forth between Jim and Spock, quickly reasoning out what had happened planet-side from Jim’s split lip and slight limp. 

“Doctor McCoy, it is my belief that you and the Captain have been engaged in a disciplinary relationship preceding the addition of myself to that arrangement. Am I correct?” 

Bones looked ready to snicker, damn him. Clearly any attempt to fool their Vulcan had been a futile effort on my part. 

“You’d be correct, Mr. Spock. Since this is the first time you’ve mentioned it, I assume you have a reason to mention it now?” 

“Indeed. I believe that the continuation of such as relationship is necessary based on the events of this afternoon.” 

Bones’ face darkened at that, and I winced as he walked towards me wielding a tricorder and a regenerator, “And what events made you reach this conclusion?”

“I must ask you to be more specific. Are you enquiring how I deduced that you were engaged in such a relationship, or what events prompted me to suggest a continuation there of?”

“The latter, though I will have to get that other story out of you another time. Preferably when Jimmy’s there to blush like crazy.”

Jim winced. When Bones called him Jimmy, the trouble he was in was fierce.

“Very well,” said Spock, and he proceeded to outline the mission, from the beginning through its steady decline, to its rather embarrassing outcome. I was equal parts annoyed and nervous from Spock’s dutiful and disapproving narrative and Bones’ ever darkening face. This was bad, very, very bad. 

I was right. A few minutes of quiet negotiation between them, and my fate was sealed. Bones walked back over to me, and Spock took a seat on the couch Bones kept in his office for therapy sessions with the crew. I nearly moaned in distress at the thought of Spock witnessing my punishment. Shame heated my cheeks. 

“Alright, kiddo, you know how this works. But we’ll be doing things a little different this time because of the addition of Spock to the equation. Now, normally I’d turn you right over my knee and tan your hide for you but good, but this was bad, kid, and you know it. And since Spock’s now invested in this relationship and is quite naturally upset, he’s asked and I’ve agreed to let him not only watch, but to get in on the action.”

My eyes widened in horror. I sputtered a bit, protested, but there was no budging Bones.

“Don’t fuss now, Jim. You’ve got bigger things to worry about. One of them will be my belt across your ass in a few minutes.”

Bones was right. I was suddenly way more worried about that than any participation Spock might be allowed, “Bones, you said you weren’t going to do that again. You know how I… um… get about that!” I cut my eyes over to Spock, blushing again. Bones had realized early on that over-the-knee, as humiliating as it was, was the best way to go. Bones had spent a good five minutes swatting my backside with his belt over his desk once with zero reaction. Bones had decided that since a reaction was what he had been going for, this method was going to be scrapped. I tended to think it was the thought of all of Bones’ considerable swing behind a belt that had made me clam up, but time and time again had proven me to be ten times more receptive when in contact with somebody who gave a damn about me. And since I had no control over this aspect of our relationship, Bones’ word was law. 

“That would usually be true, but since we have Spock here to keep you all comfortable and snug over my desk, and I’m certainly a bit ticked at you for pulling a stunt this ridiculous, over the desk you’ll go. Maybe a taste of my belt will make you think the next time you choose sex over reading the mission brief and nearly get yourself killed. You know I don’t tolerate that. Now, go over to Spock. I promised him he could warm you up for me.” 

And with that, Bones pulled out the chair behind his desk and sat, looking at me expectantly. I turned wide eyes on Mr. Spock, who was sitting calmly on the couch, waiting for me to work up to courage to walk over. 

“Now would be an expedient time, Captain.”

I shifted a little towards Spock, looking at the door longingly, “Isn’t spanking considered illogical to Vulcans?” I asked, perhaps a little plaintively.

“There is nothing illogical about using whatever means necessary to ensure the continued safety of one’s mate,” Spock replied, face implacable. 

Figuring more protests would fall on deaf ears, just like they always did when I found myself in this position, I minced over to where Spock was seated. He looked up at me with a raised eyebrow and reached for my belt. My hands came up to block him almost instinctively. The protest that I was more than capable of removing my own pants died on my lips when he froze and met my eyes darkly. 

“Your assistance is not required at this time, Captain. Please place your hands at your sides and leave them there.”

My hands slowly lowered down to even with my thighs and clenched into fists, partly in frustration and partly in an effort to obey. Spock resumed his humiliating mission to unclothe me. My belt was undone, button unsnapped, and fly drawn down with his usual efficiency. He met my eyes for a moment before peeling my pants down my legs, rolling tightly at my knees to create a slight restraint. I swallowed. Loudly. My Starfleet issue briefs were drawn down with the same care, resting on top of my coiled pants, only my shirts in place, not long enough to protect my modesty in the least. My face burned. Spock and Bones weren’t seeing anything they had not seen a hundred times before, but in this context, with them watching while fully clothed, my humiliation was severe. 

Spock let me stand there and suffer for a few moments more, and then he drew me across his knee. It was awful, ten times more embarrassing than Bones doing this! The couch bore me up, but my ass was presented high and centered on his lap, my stomach and thighs sliding over his smooth slacks. Bones settled back into his chair with his elbow on his desk and chin in hand, just watching, making me acutely aware of his presence. I couldn’t even pretend that this was just Bones. It was Spock watching my naked ass quiver. It was Spock smoothing my shirts up my back and out of the way. It was Spock who was about to fucking spank my ass. 

And then I felt him shift as he pulled his arm back and let the first swat fly. CRACK! OW! And he wasn’t pulling any punches. Then it got worse.

“Captain-“

“You should call him Jim right now, Spock, considering the context.”

“Indeed. Very well, Leonard. Jim,” CRACK! “I found your behavior today to be totally unacceptable,” SMACK! “Your unpreparedness shows a reckless disregard for your own safety that nearly cost you your life. I am most displeased.” SWAT! CRACK! SMACK!

Spock emphasized just how displeased he was with a series of hard spanks from my hips to halfway down my thighs. Fine, if he wanted to spank me, he could. But I wasn’t about to give him any reaction. Not only would it be utterly humiliating to fall apart under Spock’s dispassionate gaze, it would be letting him win. And despite all appearances of my current situation, I still didn’t believe in no-win situations. So I held myself tight and tense across his thighs, releasing my breath in tightly controlled huffs and clenching my fists tightly.

“Jim, cease your resistance. You will gain nothing from it except a longer punishment.”

I growled low in my throat at that, but Spock wasn’t kidding. When I maintained my resistance, not only did he continue unfazed, he sped up! Sharp little slaps rained down all over my ass in even, predictable rounds. It was this pattern that broke me. One little flinch to get out of the way of a swat I really didn’t want to land on the same spot again and I was lost. A flinch became a kick, a gasp became a hitched breath, and soon I was wriggling with abandon over Spock’s knee. 

On and on it went, Spock scolding me like a child in a stern and serious tone of voice while spanking me soundly. I couldn’t tell if I was squirming more from the words or the sincere paddling he was dishing out. Either way, I was quickly becoming desperate. Spock’s warm-up spanks were more like Bones’ very serious swats. But no matter how I squirmed, I wasn’t going anywhere. With a single hand on my back and the rope-like roll of my pants around my knees, I couldn’t get a bit of leverage to move even an inch. Spock’s hand just kept cracking down exactly where he chose. Eventually Spock had to restrain my arm in the small of my back when I threw it back to protect my tender backside, but he just pressed my arm down firmly, and it was as if I’d never moved. 

By the time Spock finally stopped, I was releasing little sobs that I couldn’t suppress and I could no longer focus on what he was saying. He released my arm and rubbed my back gently until I regained my composure. 

“I trust I have made my point?” 

“Yes, Spock. Sorry, sorry, sorry…” 

Spock said, “Indeed,” quietly, and scooped me up, my legs hanging kitty-corner off his lap and over the edge of the couch. I pressed my face into his neck, and that stroking hand came up and rubbed away the tension in the back of my neck before coming to a rest in the short hairs at my nape. Long minutes passed quietly, and I was soothed almost to the point of sleep, my sore behind becoming part of the background as the sting died down.

“Jim?” and then Bones was there, and I turned to him blearily, “Jim, you know we’re not done,” he said gently, smoothing the hair back from my forehead. My pulse picked up, and the tension Spock had just relieved came back in force, “No, Bones, please, I don’t need another spanking, please, I don’t think I could stand it!”

His eyes were soft when I met them over my shoulder despite his firm words, “You can stand it. You’ll have to, because I’m about to drive this lesson home. Spock, if you would.”  
Spock gently shoved me off his lap and onto my feet. My hand automatically went to rub my stinging rear, and I flushed a little when they caught me at it. Bones put his hand on my nape, right where Spock’s hand had been, and guided me in short halting steps over to the desk, going slow to account for my pants, which had slid down to my boot tops but still made an effective hobble. Spock rose from the couch and moved around the desk, taking the seat Bones had vacated just moments earlier. 

If my face could have gotten any redder, the sheer horror of that moment would have done it, remembering Bones’ eyes watching my come apart as Spock had spanked me soundly and my exposure to their eyes as Bones pushed me over the desk and into Spock. Then Bones was pushing me so that I lay completely flat, my head level with Spock’s chest. Spock moved forwards and wrapped one arm behind my head, stroking my hair again, and one hand grabbed my wrists securely so that I couldn’t reach back. His chest was close enough that I could smell his scent and the proximity was comforting. His thumb stroked the back of my hand as I became aware of Bones moving behind me and began tracking his movements without looking. 

I could hear the clinking of him unbuckling his belt and the way it swished as he pulled it neatly out of its loops. It clanked as he set it down next to me. I looked over my shoulder and caught the distressing sight of Bones rolling up his uniform sleeve. Then he picked the belt back up, placed the buckle in his palm, and wrapped the length around his hand several times before closing his fist. His left hand came to rest on my back, and Spock’s grip tightened on my wrists. I felt adrift, sheer nerves from the sight of that belt warring with the comfort of their hands on me. 

“Thirty swats, Jim. You can take it, darlin’, and then it’ll be all over.”

I sucked in a shuddering breath and nodded. Immediately, Bones drew his arm back, and then a line of fire lit its way across my ass. I tried to gasp again despite my already full lungs and choked a bit. Bones gripped the back of my shirt and paused for a moment while I caught my breath. This time he waited until I had completely exhaled before laying down another swat. I gasped, but this time I sobbed a little instead of choking. Apparently Bones decided this was okay, because every few breaths, he’d lay down another line when I exhaled. By the fifth hit I was twisting in their grip, my foot lifting off the ground to try to minimize the sting. By ten I had turned the grip Spock had on my wrists around so that I could keep a death grip on his hands as my face screwed up against the pain. By fifteen he’d had to snatch my hands back as they’d abruptly reached back to protect my behind, and Bones gave me a break, lowering his arm and rubbing my back.

“Hey, shh, it’s okay. We’ve got you and we’re gonna take good care of you. Just breathe for a minute, and then we’ll finish this up.”

Tears were tracing their way down my cheeks, and Spock was smoothing them away as they fell. Sweat made my shirts stick to my skin at my collar and the small of my back. Bones sent a cool hand down across my hot bottom, soothing and stinging in the same moment. I shuddered between them and slowly relaxed, but they never loosened their grip on me. It was sort of comforting, though I’d never admit it out loud. 

“Spock, I’m going to do these last ones very quickly and get it over with. I’m going to need you to hold him real tight, cause he’s going to wiggle like an eel, and I don’t want to hit anything I don’t mean to.” 

“Very well, Leonard. Jim, I am going to lean over your back. Will you find that sufficiently comforting, or do you require additional tactile measures?”

Bones actually had the gall to laugh, “Spock, just when I think you’ve got the whole human relations thing down, you surprise me with something like this. Look at him, Jim’s absolutely fumin’. Just lean over him and make those ‘additional tactile measures.’”

Spock did just that, standing up from the chair and leaning over me to press his weight down. Once he had me pinned, my wrists restrained at the small of my back by his right hand, his left hand began the business of stroking me wherever he could reach, gently trying to keep me calm. Bones put his hand on my back once again, lending a bit of his own weight to holding me still. He raised his arm again and sent the belt cracking back down onto the middle of my butt. Each strike landed neatly along the edge of the previous one. I’m pretty sure I let out two long shrieks as he worked his way down, his last strike on the center of my thighs. It felt like the longest, most painful minute of my life, and when it was over, I was allowed to spend a minute panting and crying over the desk unrestrained before I was pulled up into Bones’ arms. I shoved my face in his neck, crying and heedless of the fact that my welted, red bottom was hanging out for Spock to see, framed by my pants, still around my knees, and my shirts, the black undershirt sticking out from underneath the hem of my command gold unevenly. 

After a few minutes, Bones gently pulled my face away from where I was still hiding in his neck, and I saw Spock standing there through blurry eyes. He handed Bones a glass of water, which he held to my lips and made me sip from while Spock washed my face clean of tears, snot, and sweat with a cool washcloth. I choked down the lukewarm water, my breathing still hitching, but the drink forced it to smooth out a little. They let me push my head back into Bones’ neck then, and strong arms wrapped around me while I gripped his shirt in tight fists. Spock stepped back, and Bones began to gently walk me backwards. They laid me down on the couch on my stomach and washed my face again, cooling my forehead and resting my swollen eyes with a clean washcloth. I drifted for long minutes, soothing voices and hands washing over me. They spoke to each other softly over my head, and I found that I really didn’t care what they were saying. 

I must have dozed for a while. When I woke up, Spock and Bones were talking quietly, Spock seating at the desk and Bones with a hip hitched up on top of it. Spock was resting a proprietary hand on Bones’ thigh. They looked up when I lifted my head, and Bones smiled and moved over to me. He kissed my forehead and stroked a couple of fingers down the side of my face. Spock moved in and stroked down my side. I nuzzled into Bones’ hand, and he laughed softly, but continued to stroke my hair. 

“He gets so tactile afterwards. Part of the whole process is also making sure he’s okay emotionally afterwards,” Bones explained to Spock. I ignored him and reached up for Spock. 

He leaned down and wrapped an arm around me, lifting my chest and settling onto the couch next to me before pulling me against his chest. He was warmer than Bones, and I sighed and settled into it.

“You’re both so mean to me,” I pouted. 

“And there comes the sass. Watch it Jim, you wouldn’t want any more swats on that hot bottom,” Bones grinned.

“Indeed. Provoking us after both myself and Leonard have just demonstrated our willingness to punish you is most illogical.”

My pout got bigger. Bones just laughed.

“Well Jim, I hope you learned you lesson. I think that whenever you misbehave from now on you can expect a Vulcan that’s just as likely as me to spank you. Who knows, it may come down to flipping a coin over who gets to spank you first. Either way, I think you can expect two paddlings every time you pull some stupid stunt from now on. I suggest you behave, or you’ll never be able to sit again.”

I glared, but Bones just laughed louder.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is a possibility, if there's a lot of interest, of me writing more in this universe, like the first time Bones spanks Jim in detail, or a fic where Spock takes Jim in hand when McCoy is unavailable. Comment if you're interested in either, and thanks for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> More to come shortly!


End file.
